Thursday, 30 August 2012

The Hanged Man

 She needed a cave, my arms
 are wings.
 She sought words, I continued
 to scream.
 She asked for quiet, a second
 I wanted a battle, a shot at

 We wiggled about in her black silk
 sheets, cacooning ourselves with flesh,
 hiding from days, pretending nights
 rolled into each other like waves,
 love leaking like blood; nightmares, dreams
 and regret strung up like Christmas lights -
 so the whole world could see what was coming

 everyone except me, anger
 makes us blind, deaf to all
 but inner voices, desperate
 for another round when the bell
 has rung, the door slammed shut
 and without ever knowing how
 it came about I sat beside the table,
 telephone in hand, dial tone,
 the New Greek oracle, signalling
 a finality the heart understood far
 more than the mind ever would.

No comments:

Post a Comment